The Widow and The Hawk (Budapest)
by SyrenStoryteller
Summary: My idea for a prequel to Avengers and most of the MCU. Focuses on Natasha and Clint, and specifically Budapest ;). No real pairings, but definitely flirting!
1. Chapter 1 and 2

The Hawk and the Widow

 _ **Chapter 1- Target Practice**_

Natasha stared through the scope until she saw her target. If he was simply to be sniped they wouldn't have sent her, but it was still important to identify the weak points of the area before she infiltrated it. Clipping the scope to the her waist she exited the rooftop. In the elevator down, she looped the camera and then changed out of her uniform and into a long red dress, with a large slit up one leg, and spaghetti straps. Leaving the elevator she grabbed the device she used to loop the camera and walked out. Across the street she saw another official get out of his car, the woman he was with seemed upset with him, and Natasha saw make her way into the building.

Schooling her face into a sexy smirk, she walked up to the man and looped her arm through his. He looked at her in shock, about to say something before her alluring stare cut him off. Smiling he escorted her into the party.

As soon as she was through the doors she scanned the room for her target, aware of everything, and everyone, in the room as well as their behavior. There was a waiter who assessed her briefly before continuing with his duties. Interpreting the glance as normal attraction she continued scanning. As her escort tried to start a conversation with her, she kissed him on the cheek and faded into the crowd. The noise from applauding people allowed her to discreetly move through the crowd as a man walked down the steps into the party. The server noticed this and casually dumped pieces of his disguise into the nearby trash bins.

As her target shook hands with people, the crowd began to disperse and Natasha drifted toward her target. Just before she could reach him a man touched her arm and asked her to dance. She was about to politely refuse and resume her mission when she noticed that he was the server who had watched her when she came in. He now looked like he belonged at the party, his uniform changed into a dashing tuxedo. She knew immediately that he was another agent, but from where and with what mission was still a mystery. It wasn't safe to carry out her mission without knowing or taking care of him, so she started a conversation.

"Bon Soir, Est-ce que vous appréciez la fête?" Natasha mentally translated the conversation into russian.

"Yes I am. Are you?"  
"Yes, It is a beautiful party."

"Of course it isn't as beautiful as you are." He stared at Natasha flirtatiously. Natasha wasn't fooled for a minute, but no need to tell him that. She visibly relaxed and smiled up at him.

"You are far too kind. What brings you here this evening? The politics, or the party?"

"The women. I never have the patience for politics and parties are only good when no one knows what they're saying."

"Is that so? Then perhaps you'd like to escort me to another room for a respite from this dull crowd."

"I'd be honored." They left the dance floor and walked towards one of the many side rooms.

"What's your name?" Natasha inquired innocently.

"Does it matter?"

"Why wouldn't it?"  
"I find it helps me attract women when I'm mysterious."

"Is that so?" They stepped into the room and closed the door. Quicker than lighting the two agents reacted. Natasha held a knife to the man's gut and he pushed a pistol against her side. The man chuckled.

"You're not as good as I expected Miss Romanov."

"And who might you be, since you know me so well?" Her english was perfect, revealing nothing about herself through an accent, or even emotion.

"Name's Clint." He casually replied.

"Who do you work for?"

"Classified." She pushed the knife harder against his gut. She could feel underneath his suit that he was muscled, definitely well trained. American accent, knowledge of her - at least to some degree - implied an intelligence service.

"Did I imply that I cared?" She was getting a little impatient. She needed to get back to her target soon.

"Does it matter?" He looked up at her. She could tell he was getting more serious.

"Look, long story short I was sent to kill you, but I'm making a different call. I think you are an agent with amazing skills just stuck on the wrong side. I think it's time you worked for the good guys." He said it so steadily she couldn't discern any signs of lying, but there was always the chance that he was very good at it. She stayed silent but pulled the knife slightly away from him never dropping her stare from his eyes. She could feel the pressure on her side lessen and she knew he pulled the gun away. Reluctantly she took a step back from him and re-concealed her knife.

"I'll give you time to think about it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver pin of a bow and arrow.

"Just in case you want to contact me about the offer." She took it and slipped it into another concealed pouch, her cold expression showing nothing.

"Unfortunately," Clint continued. 'he loves the sound of his own voice' Natasha thought to herself, allowing a sly smirk to slide onto her face.

"I can't let you kill the dignitary." He reached into his pocket to pull something out, but before he finished Natasha pinched her fingers together and he doubled over in pain before passing out. Her smirk grew a little bit bigger as she retrieved the stinger from where she had clipped it while they were dancing. Natasha was always neat, no evidence. Ever. But he had posed an interesting offer that might help her escape the deadly competition she was locked in. Pushing it out of her mind and quickly restraining him behind the couch she walked back into the ballroom. It had been only 5 minutes, but her window of opportunity was closing. Her face the picture of a pleasurable and relaxed participant, she wound her way around the room to meet her target. She positioned herself in his line of sight and smiled at him seductively when he looked at her. He quickly excused himself from his conversation and she walked toward him slowly.

"May I have this dance?" He asked her with a small bow.

"But of course, Monsieur." She replied with another smile. He walked her to the dance floor and for the second time that night she concealed a stinger on her partner's person. Very aware of the possibility that Clint had backup such as snipers, she made sure that they did not stray too near any windows. Unlike the stinger she used on Clint, this one was deadly; containing a toxin in gas form that would be released on her command. The toxin would send him into cardiac arrest, making it appear to be a natural death, and with a second click of her fingers the capsule would self destruct. After the dance she took her leave and mulled around the party long enough to blend in, but not become familiar. When she was safely back on her rooftop across the street she activated the stinger. Through her scope she saw him gasp for a moment then fall over dead without a trace of evidence. When the commotion was loud enough she clicked her fingers once more and the incriminating capsule was also destroyed.

A footstep behind her startled her and she whipped around, her two small handguns aimed at the intruder instantly. He had a bow drawn and an arrow pointed at her.

"You took longer than I thought." She stated curtly. "SHIELD's losing their touch." He gave her a shocked expression before she continued. "I let you live. Don't push me." Seeing the cold glare she gave him, Clint decided to cut his losses and back off, after all, they would see each other again. There wasn't a Russian agent that good who didn't face constant assassination attempts from competitors. With a smirk he lowered his bow and began to walk back the way he came. Before leaving he stopped and gave Natasha a meaningful look.

"Thank you for the dance Miss Romanov, I look forward to next time." And with that he vanished into the darkness of the stairwell. When the sound of his footsteps disappeared Natasha let out a small sigh and shook her head. He was going to be trouble.

 _Chapter 2-Home Sweet HQ_

On the helicarrier Clint reluctantly typed 'mission failed' into his report. Seemingly seconds after submitting it he heard Fury yell. He chuckled to himself, it was so fun to get on Fury's nerves. Unfortunately, it had its drawbacks, such as being yelled at; for a _very_ long time.

Clint kicked his feet up on the desk as Fury burst into the room.

"Hey Fury, What's up?" He nonchalantly asked him, knowing full well why he was upset.

"What's up? What's up? You submit your first failed mission _ever_ and then you have the nerve to ask me 'what's up'?!" Fury looked like he would explode.

"Easy there Fury, you might burst a blood vessel." He joked, Fury just steamed, glaring at him. If looks could kill Clint was sure he would be ash right now.

"You're lucky I already have another assignment for you. If I didn't, you'd be outside window washing!" Clint gulped internally. Washing the windows of the Helicarrier in flight was not on his bucket list, but if it was, it would be the last thing, because it would likely make him kick the bucket in the process. Hoping to distract Fury from his punishment he changed the subject to the mission.

"Whatchya got for me this time Fury?"

"Intel says there's going to be an assassination attempt at peace conference in Hungary."

"By who? Where in Hungary?"

"Budapest. The Russians. They'll be sending their top agent for this, so we'll be sending ours." Clint stayed silent for a moment. He would be seeing Natasha again sooner than he thought.

Natasha watched her reflection as she methodically brushed her long red locks. She performed the motions over and over again as her thoughts turned to Clint and his offer. The silver pin was concealed in her stealth suit, its pressure a constant reminder of her escape route. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. 'Strange,' she thought to herself. She hadn't heard any footsteps leading up to it. She grabbed her gun and moved to the left of the window, still within sight of the door, but close enough to the closet for cover and the window for an escape. Her gun at the ready she called out to the door.

"Who is it?" She decided to speak in french considering that she was in a cheap hotel in Paris.

"I'm your neighbor, I was hoping I could borrow some soap?" A man's voice called out from behind the door. Despite the friendliness of his words, his tone was almost deadpan. The voice of a commanding officer.

"Of course, I have some extra." She called out to the door, signalling to the man that she was alone and the room was secure for him to enter. He turned the doorknob and entered. When he walked in she could see scratch marks on the doorknob from where he had picked the lock. Internally she shook her head, 'amateur'. After closing the door behind him he took a seat on the bed. She turned to face him and stood at attention. He looked her up and down before switching to Russian to complement her on her mission.

"Well done as always Widow." He said with a terse nod.

"Thank you, Sir." She responded robotically.

"We have another assignment for you."

"Yes?"

"You will take the next available plane to Budapest. You will receive further instructions there. But it should be no trouble for someone with your record." She remained silent, aware that this was a thinly veiled threat to maintain her performance. It wasn't unexpected, most meetings contained at least three, but she never paid any heed. Fear used to motivate her, but at this point is was her reputation, her drive to be the best, and maybe because without the missions she wasn't sure who she would be. This time the pressure of the silver pin reminded her of her chance to disappear.

The man abruptly stood up and she tensed, waiting for the physical assault she knew would come but couldn't respond to. As she watched his hand whip towards her she relaxed her body so she could absorb the blow with the least amount of injury. This man really was an idiot. He was trying to hide a smirk after slapping her, not realizing that she had let him, believing her response to be fear.

"Speak up Widow!" He whispered, his hand readying for another slap. She quietly spat out what he wanted, careful to keep a slight tremble in her voice as she spoke.

"I accept the mission, Sir." She saluted. The man looked disappointed, he wanted to get another hit in. Internally she smirked. The commander would never allow his prized assassin to be injured for nothing. Insolence? Definitely. Accepting a mission? Not a chance. He left the room and she locked the door behind him.

Changing into civilian clothes she gave the pin a final glance and made her decision. She was sick of pretending to be weak to men she could kill almost instantly. She would take Clint up on his offer. If the officer next door knew about Budapest it was a safe bet SHIELD would know too and send their best. Copying the file on Clint from her agency's database to her laptop, she called a cab to take her to the airport.

This is my first published fanfic. I own only the idea not the characters. Please review! I would love some feedback to learn if and how I should keep writing not only this story, but others. THANKS! :)


	2. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3-Landing_

Natasha walked through the Budapest airport towards the taxi line. After completely bypassing the security and customs lines, she had received a new phone with the coded address of an apartment in it. She told the taxi driver to take her to a street two blocks away from it, paid him in cash, and briefly ducked into an alleyway to change her appearance before checking into her apartment as a blonde with brown eyes. Once there she took out her bug sweeper and went through the house, marking the Russian bugs and removing all others. She also checked all the windows and the balcony for sniper spots and possible vantage points into the apartment. She also took note of all the nearby terrain, escape routes, and routines in case of an emergency. She didn't expect to be running from here, but planning for the worst was part of what made her the best.

Outside, north of her balcony, she could see the beginning of the compound where the Russian official would be meeting. Although politics was another way of saying targets whine at each other until someone does something, she knew she would need to read up on the situation that brought her target here to understand security measures, possible threats, and most importantly, why SHIELD would be involved. Natasha knew they would be, something big was going down, most of the time the officers who gave her missions didn't know what they were about. If they did, it meant that it was only a cover for the _real_ mission, or SHIELD would know what was going on as well and send someone in for no other reason than to monitor the situation.

Satisfied that she would have enough information for her mission, she went into the kitchen and pried of the grate of the oven vent. Setting it down on the stove she reached up into the soot-covered vent and grabbed the envelope there. it was equally covered in soot, but she could see that the folder was black except for the red symbol in the middle. After replacing the grate and washing her hands Natasha sat down in the bathroom (which had no window) and opened the envelope. Inside were three objects: a paper listing with basic information about her target (his name, age, psychological profile, and his preferences in women), an American handgun, and a lighter. With gloves on, she stowed the gun on the counter before memorizing all of the information on her target. Then, with stoic features, she lit the envelope on fire over the sink before washing her hands over it to ensure it drained.

Checking the clock she realized that the flights from America would be arriving at the airport soon. With a smirk on her face she set to work changing her appearance again.

Clint shifted uncomfortably in his airplane seat. He would have flown to Budapest himself but Fury said he was "grounded" and needed to "look like a civilian for once" instead of the agent that he was. Not wanting to push his luck any farther Clint had accepted with minimal complaining. This was the part he disliked about the job: pretending to be somebody else. He loved the danger, the precision it took, flirting with the ladies and stopping dangerous people from hurting others, but the part where he had to pretend to be a stuffy, clueless civilian, who was used to long flights, really cramped his style.

It seemed like it had only been a few minutes when he jerked awake to the sound of the landing notification. He stretched and tried to ignore the criticisms popping up in his head. _'You weren't supposed to sleep!_ How many threats do you think could actually get on this plane? ' _Plenty, because you were sleeping! You were supposed to stay awake and sleep in Budapest!_ Ignoring his self-criticism he retrieved his bag from the overhead bin and followed the rest of the people off of the plane.

While looking for a bathroom to change his appearance in, he was pulled from his thoughts by a brunette who bumped into him while trying to juggle a laptop and three separate bags.

"Hey, watch what you're-"

"Oh I'm so sorry! I'm just in a rush, and I didn't see where I was going-" He looked at her again, noticing for the first time how innocent and beautiful she looked. She had a slight lilt to her voice that suggested a Portuguese accent. Clint speculated that she may be a translator for the conference.

"It's fine. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's been a long flight." He held her eyes for a while before stooping down to pick up the items she had dropped.

"You know, carrying your stuff around like that, you'll probably drop and break something." He tried to shift his voice to be more flirty and less threatening or apologetic.

"I'm stronger than I look." She replied simply. Placing all of her objects, including the laptop, into two bags.

"Is that so?" He asked her with a teasing tone. "Maybe we should meet up sometime so I can see how strong you really are." The woman blushed, tucking a loose strand of chocolate hair from her face before responding.

"Maybe." With that, her eyes focused on something directly behind him. Clint turned around to see what it was, but after seeing nothing he looked back and the girl had vanished. He groaned internally, and now it was time to get back to work.

Natasha schooled her features until she was back in her apartment (she left and came through the window so that her neighbors would think she was in her apartment). When she had muted all the bugs and was out of sight she allowed herself a small giggle. He was good with a bow, but Clint was a rotten spy. Never mind that she was the best in the business, he had fallen for a little Portuguese translator and completely dropped his guard! She shook her head. This was why women made the best spies, they didn't get distracted by pretty curves or a sweet voice. Or at least she didn't. She tried to remember the last time she had been distracted on a mission, but couldn't. That was nothing new. She never failed, and never got distracted. She was the perfect weapon, the perfect spy. she pulled up Clint's face when he realized he was yelling at a sweet little brunette. This time she didn't laugh, this time she wondered what it would be like to be be able to feel those things. Empathy, remorse, regret, guilt, compassion. Every human was supposed to have those qualities, but when she had asked her instructor about them during her time at in the Red Room she had said that they would never be there. Did that mean she wasn't human? Did it matter?

Pushing the introspective thoughts from her mind, she focused on the task at hand. One more mission, one more target, then she could figure out what she was. Right now it didn't matter. She was, and would be until the end of time, the Black Widow.


	3. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4- Spinning Silk_

Clint looked out the window of the abandoned building he was camped in. It was supposed to be swept routinely because it had a perfect view of the peace meeting, but it was all too easy for Clint to get in. After his distraction at the airport, Clint decided that he would have to be extra careful on this mission. He was fairly certain Widow had been sent to Budapest as well, and that meant very little would go according to his plans. He did have an advantage because Fury had briefed him on the political situation before his flight. He doubted the Russians showed Natasha the same trust. ' _Idiots,'_ He thought to himself. ' _They are so concerned with not trusting their agents that they force them to find other sources of information_.' This was no doubt what made the Black Widow so good. She was an expert at gathering information. She understood the power of information, and so would likely know even more than Clint about the peace conference by tomorrow; but until then, he had an advantage.

With that in mind, Clint suited up for his reconnaissance run. In the dark of night no one would see the Hawk glide from rooftop to rooftop, building to building, as he learned everything he could about the defenses for the conference.

He was watching the men in the guard house from an apartment building south of the conference when he noticed a nervous looking blonde wandering towards the guard house that was emptying. The guards had been celebrating the culmination of all their work for the peace conference, and consequently had drunk too much. The few guards on duty had abstained from drinking, but had drifted together towards the front of the building to smoke and talk. The blonde was walking straight towards the drunken guards. Hawkeye began to get nervous. ' _Please don't see her, please don't see her, please don't see her_ ' he pleaded. When one of the guards looked up and began to stagger towards her Hawkeye silently cursed. ' _What on earth was that girl doing?! Was she trying to get raped? Why hadn't she heard the guards (they were singing loudly enough) and just moved away?!'_ Silently cursing himself for being about to break his cover, Clint took out his bow and ran towards the alleyway the Guards had driven the blonde into. She had finally noticed the men and changed routes, but it was already too late.

As Hawkeye jumped across the rooftops he could hear snatches of hungarian from the now panicked blonde and the boisterous responses from the guards. He took aim at the girl as she backed up against the wall. As the men got closer she began to cry. Having seen enough, Clint shot a smoke grenade into the midst of the men and a retractable net around the girl. As the men stumbled around choking, Clint yanked the net's line hard and the cable rapidly began to retract. He smiled, she was almost to safet- all of a sudden the girl dropped from the net, landed on a nearby fire-escape and flipped gracefully back to the ground. Her posture was no longer frightened or innocent, she stood straight as stone, her eyes seeming to slice through the smoke Clint had sent. Clint shivered after witnessing the change, somehow he felt that these men were in much more danger from the woman than she was from them. Without warning, the woman stepped into the fog and Clint lost sight of her. She stayed in the smoke for 3 minutes before ducking into the shadows. The smoke finally dissipated revealing a group of groggy guards collapsed on the ground. Clint was so intent on finding the woman in the shadows that he didn't see the woman climb the adjacent building and sneak up behind him.

"Agent Barton." The cold voice instantly drew Clint's attention as he knocked another arrow and pointed it at Miss Romanov. She spoke with little emotion, and the only expression he could see on her face was faint traces of annoyance.

"Oh hey beautiful, You surprised me, and that's tough to do, so, props." He immediately began to banter to try and get her to drop her guard.

"You speak like a child Agent Barton. You are very easy to sneak up on, and you crash around the neighborhood like a novice."

"I-"

"You not only intervened in my op, giving your presence away, but prevented me from getting all I needed from the guards." Her voice was stern with an edge like a knife. There was none of the honey she had used on him in France. Clint smiled, at least she was being somewhat honest with him.

"Look, if you hadn't pretended to be some ditsy blonde in the first place I wouldn't have even bothered."

"You always need to play the hero, don't you? Living with illusions will get you killed in this business Barton. There's no space for repentance crusades."

"Repentance crusades? What about my offer? Have you at least thought about it?" Frustration started to bubble in Clint but it seemed to have no effect on the Russian.

"Do not interfere any further with my mission or I will have to make sure you cannot." She paused and the ghost of a smirk appeared on her face. "Keep your eyes on the target Trickshot." Frustrated, Clint stepped forward to reply, but she tossed a stinger on him and swung off of the roof while he doubled over in pain from the electric shock. As soon as he recovered from the taser-like attack Clint raced to the edge of the roof just in time to see a shadowy lithe figure scale the apartment building and slip into a room on the third floor. Smirking, Clint scanned the windows on that floor for her bedroom. With a smirk on his face Clint sent a special arrow through the window screen.

...

Changing out of her maid's costume and into her more revealing tourist's costume, Natasha ran through the information she had gathered from the drunk guards in her head. The Officials involved were so paranoid that they only allowed their personal guards in the conference room with them, although regular Hungarian guards would be positioned all throughout that floor. The elevator required an escort who had a key to get to the top floor, but the escorts themselves were easy to imitate. There were plenty of blind spots on the grounds, but there were very few entrances into the building, though there were lots of windows. If she wasn't able to bluff her way in as a translator, she could always sabotage the heating so that windows would be available as entrances.

Her transformation complete, Natasha headed towards the distant sounds of drunken guards. Natasha suppressed a smirk when hearing how drunk they were. Add a little russian vodka to the mix and not one of the guards could stand up straight. Although the darkness made it difficult, Natasha scanned the rooftops for any sign of Barton. He had been sneaking around all evening trying to figure out the grounds. Amature, the blueprints were in the museum down the street. Not seeing ny sign of him, Romanov immersed herself in the task at hand. The little lost tourist girl would be able to get much closer to the guards (at once) without being noticed than her maid character. She needed to make sure she had her failsafes in place before going in. Implanting stingers in them so she could keep track of their whereabouts and incapacitated them if she needed to. The guards she had given the most vodka were on duty inside during the conference. If she had them already taken care of, the rest of this mission would be a breeze.

When she came within 5 meters the guards finally noticed her. Maybe she had overestimated with the vodka a bit. Regardless, they were now heading toward her, whistling and pleading for her to come closer. Moving them away from the guard house, she drew them into an abandoned alley way she had scoped out earlier. As they got closer Natasha identified who would attack first, who she wouldn't have to injure, and who would pass-out first. When her back hit the wall she began sobbing to cover up the sound of her knife coming out and the stingers going into standby. When the dominant guard was about to strike, Widow reached out to grab his arm but she was jerked upward in a net as the guards became surrounded in smoke.

Cursing SHIELD and their hero complexes she sliced through the net, rebounded off the railing of a fire escape, and with a single flip alighted gracefully on the ground. Her cover now completely blown, she maintained her fighting stance and listened for the positions of the different men within the cloud of smoke. Ignoring Hawkeye's interruption to her mission, she wove around the guards, making a small incision on each and inserting a stinger before sealing it and knocking them unconscious. Although the smoke made her task take slightly longer she enjoyed the challenge. This mission had been so straightforward it was making her uneasy. She was the best spy and assassin the organization had. They only gave her the impossible assignments, the ones that were too sensitive to give to anyone else, or the ones that only a monster could do. Pushing the smell of burning flesh in the jungle air from her mind, Widow slipped out of the smoke and into a blind spot of the angle she had been shot from.

When she scaled the roof, sure enough, there was Hawkeye, still searching for her on the ground among the unconscious guards. A wave of annoyance went through her. This was the second time he had interfered with her mission, and his skills were only drawing attention to both of their presence in Budapest. He needed to be straightened out.

"Agent Barton." Her voice startled him, but instead of jumping he immediately grabbed an arrow and aimed it at her. She was unimpressed.

"Oh hey beautiful, You surprised me, and that's tough to do, so, props." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his juvenile attempts at manipulation and instead narrowed them to increase the intensity of her stare.

"You speak like a child Agent Barton. You are very easy to sneak up on, and you crash around the neighborhood like a novice." She was in no mood to encourage his weak attempt at familiarity.

"I-" Last time she had listened to what he had to say, now it was his turn.

"You not only intervened in my operation, giving your presence away, but prevented me from getting all I needed from the guards." This wasn't exactly true. He had changed how she had compromised the guards, and how she would have to cover it up, but no real objective hadn't been completed. He wouldn't have been able to stop her from accomplishing them if he tried. She knew he enjoyed it when she flirted with him, but if she wanted him to believe her and keep out harsher tones were best. He may not like it, but he was used to following orders.

"Look, if you hadn't pretended to be some ditsy blonde in the first place I wouldn't have even bothered." _Ahhh the requisite complaining_. It was amazing he had ever worked in The Circus of Crime. Anyone who spoke against Ringmaster was discontinued from the show. She supposed that was one of the reasons he turned them in. But now was the time to plant the seed of doubt and remind him that she was thinking about his offer.

"You always need to play the hero, don't you? Living with illusions will get you killed in this business Barton. There's no space for repentance crusades." _Let him chew on that one._

"Repentance crusades? What about my offer? Have you at least thought about it?" _Annnd there it is. You can ask, but until I can trust you, it stays my secret._ She could see the signs of frustration in Clint, he wasn't very good at concealing his emotions.

"Do not interfere any further with my mission or I will have to make sure you cannot." Widow paused and the ghost of a smirk appeared on her face. "Keep your eyes on the target Trickshot." Clint's eyes widened for a moment and he stepped forward to reply, but she tossed a stinger on him and swung off of the roof while he doubled over in pain from the electric shock.

The stinger should knock him unconscious for about 10 minutes, plenty of time for her to climb down, spread broken glass around the unconscious guards (to explain their cuts) and climb back up into the safety of her room without Hawkeye seeing.

After heating up some street-food she bought in the microwave, Natasha went into the bathroom to take off her wig and shower. Once clean, she went into the bedroom to secure it before going to sleep. As she walked into the room she almost ran into the arrow at eye height sticking out of the wall. She glared at the hole it had torn through the window screen, and without looking, yanked the arrow out of the wall. She looked down at the piece of paper that brushed her toes. Moving out of the window's line of sight, she grabbed the paper and opened it. Out of it fell a single rose-petal, and on it was written:

 _Trickshot can hit a spider with his eyes shut, but Hawkeye can shoot the spider's web right from underneath it._

 _The rose petal is for an apology, and so you know I'll be seeing you again._

 _Game on spider._

Natasha could practically see the grin on his face as he wrote this. _How sweet, the archer wants play._ She would have to pay _his_ little camp a visit. She smirked as she thought of how he would react once all his arrows were missing. She'd like to see him get in her way _then_.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't realize that for the first time, her smirk had slipped into a genuine smile.

...

Thank you all so much for reading this! I am super new and would LOVE some feedback so that I can get better at writing. Please comment and do any of the other stuff you do to show authors that you support them! Until next chapter!


	4. Chapter 5

_Guest sept. 23_ \- Muito Obrigada!

Thank you all for the reviews, keep them coming! It helps me write better!

 _Chapter 5- Infiltration_

Romanov slid out of bed and rolled onto the floor. To help herself wake up, and to get rid of the nightmares, she began doing push-ups. She didn't count how many she did, but when her muscles began to complain she got up and did her routine sweep of the premises before getting in the shower and suiting up. Today she wore her uniform underneath a pair of jeans and some winter gear so that she looked normal. Most people thought the weather was cold here, and although it didn't bother Natasha, it gave her an excuse to cover up her uniform.

Today she would slip into the conference to evaluate her target and his personal security. He was Russian, which didn't surprise her, people were often eliminated to keep secrets or to gain power. What surprised her was the make of the gun she was supposed to use. It was american instead of the usual mercenary or terrorist weapons she used for framing. Most often they didn't give her any specific weapons and expected that there would be no evidence of her crime. If she was using an american gun, there was something bigger going on than a power grab.

After walking for a while she ate some breakfast and pretended to read a newspaper while watching the official's apartment. He kept an early morning schedule and didn't go anywhere without his entourage of guards. Due to this, she only caught a few glimpses of his face as he was ushered into his vehicle. He was staying fairly close to the conference because it would last for three days, but he would still go to the embassy for business until then.

If she were Hawkeye, and only wanted to kill him, it would be simple. Unfortunately, her mission required some drama for the death, and she wanted to find out what made this man so important to SHIELD and Russia. She thought back to Clint's offer and his note. However heartfelt Clint's offer may have been, SHIELD may not honor it. She would have to bring leverage if she really wanted to leave without being killed. Maybe getting dirt on her target would be enough. Regardless of leverage, Romanov needed to keep Barton out of this op. His performance last night demonstrated just how little subtlety he had. While he was a great assassin, and wasn't seen if he wanted to, he didn't know how to be unnoticeable, how to get information without tipping your hand. She waited until after her stake-out to find his camp because she wanted to be sure he was gone before she raided it. She would like to see him mess up her op then. She checked her watch: almost 08:00. He should be gone by now.

...

Barton groaned as the sun hit his eyes. His body still throbbed from Natasha's stinger and sleeping on a concrete floor with just a sleeping bag hadn't helped it feel any better. Blocking out the sunlight with one hand, Clint looked at his watch: 08:00. He groaned again. The ambassadors' security details would be examining the building today, and if he wanted to infiltrate it he had 30 minutes to get in position.

Ignoring the chill in the air, he hopped out of his sleeping bag and quickly threw a suit over his uniform with a big coat. Although he could deal with the cold for long periods of time to get the perfect shot, the coat would help him blend in and conceal his bow (which he didn't intend to use) and a few arrows (which were just in case). His falsified documents allowed him to carry a pistol for his cover. Satisfied that he had everything he needed, Hawkeye scarfed down a granola bar before discretely exiting the building through the back stairway.

As soon as Widow saw him jogging across the street she flung a knife attached to a rope over the ledge of the roof and toward the window of the building. She would have used a magnet, but the window frames were made of wood and she didn't want to spend more time on this than necessary. Hearing a satisfying thunk, Natasha pulled up on the rope to open the window. When it wouldn't open any higher Romanov fluidly slipped down from the roof and through the window. She had assumed his camp would be here because of its direct line of sight to the conference building and its height ( _hawkeye_ _**loved**_ _high places_ ) . It had also been cleared out and guarded in preparation for the conference so there were fewer chances of someone going in and discovering his set up.

Natasha shook her head at his predictability. The sleeping bag, laptop, tripod with scope, and bag of assorted weapons and disguises confirmed his residency. Tsking at the sight of so much evidence, she began her sabotage.

First she went through the weapons and emptied all of their bullets into a throwaway bag. She did the same with the arrow-heads (leaving the shafts) and then moved on to the electronics. His laptop had a password on it, but it was no match for her hacking skills. Her organization never gave her enough information for her missions so she learned how to get it herself. They found out eventually and praised her for it, but she wondered why they hadn't just given her access in the first place. This was how she got the file on Hawkeye. Although SHIELD's security was slightly better, it took her almost no time to adapt her strategies and break in.

When she was past the first layer of defense she pulled out a hard-drive and downloaded all the encrypted files she could fit before uploading a virus she had crafted just for him. While the virus was downloading she noticed the recent messages between Hawkeye and Director Fury. The latest messages were from yesterday morning, so there was nothing about her presence except for:

Today will search for enemy agents; especially Widow.

She knew little about Nick Fury except that he was head of SHIELD and was missing an eye, so she decided to send him a message:

Widow isn't here. Proceed with mission?

She cloned the system that communicated with Fury onto her hard-drive so she could monitor their communications and especially Fury's response. With that completed she set the virus to activate when he tried to open the files on her or the mission. Smirking, she opened a bottle of black ink from her bag and poured the liquid night onto his scope. When it had dried she took out a bright red stick of lipstick and drew her symbol over the inky lense. Satisfied with her sabotage, she applied the lipstick to her lips and kissed a slip of paper that she left on top of the straightened-out sleeping bag.

With a final look at the raided camp Natasha returned her face to its usual stern expression and climbed back onto the roof. She didn't realize that her eyes were still laughing as she left to stake out the American Ambassador's security detail.

...

As the group of american security officers were admitted into the building, Clint fell into step behind them. As he passed the guards he nodded, noticing the bandages placed on the majority of the guards. Saving his questions for later, he followed the security detail around the building. When any American officer saw him he would flash his CIA badge and then ignore them. A few of the men attempted to start up conversations but he shut them down as inconspicuously as possible. While they went around evaluating the premises, he evaluated the men. He had already evaluated the building from the outside, and while the inside provided some new information it wasn't as relevant as the security detail.

As the men concluded their tour Hawkeye couldn't help but be disappointed. None of them showed signs of defecting or sabotaging the conference. His leads were dead. He knew that the Russians would kill someone, and that they would use the death to try to start another war. He didn't know who their target was, why they were being targeted, or how the USA would be blamed.

He would have to sneak in with the Russian detail to scan their team or information. Barton was disappointed. His russian was fair at best and his attitude was difficult to blend with their culture. As they exited the building Hawkeye remembered the injuries the guards had. Pausing just outside the gate, he struck up a conversation (in hungarian) with one of the injured guards. Eventually asking about his injury Hawkeye frowned when the guard said it was from a broken bottle. He and his fellows had gotten drunk and fought each other, and although no one was seriously injured, they all had a mark with the same kind of bandaging. Although it was possible they had all been bandaged by the same person after the fact, Hawkeye had a suspicion that Black Widow wanted more from them than just information. She was definitely responsible for the injuries, but why bandage them? What did she cover up with the bandages. Unfortunately he couldn't check without blowing his cover so instead he thanked the guard and walked around the block (out of sight) before discreetly returning to his camp. He needed to speak with Nick Fury.

...

After observing the american ambassador's escort for the rest of the day, Natasha stowed the throw-away bag with Clint's amo in it underneath a dumpster outside her apartment before climbing up to her own rooms.

She let the hot water of the shower wash away the sweat and dirt from the day of hard work and meditated, bringing her body back to center and to the present. Tomorrow was her last day as a russian spy, and she would give them no reason or way to follow her. Suitably refreshed, she checked the clone of Barton's computer for any new messages from Fury (Clint wouldn't be able to send any. _ha._ ). She saw one reply:

She's there. Shoot straight. This is bigger than we thought. Don't play your hand until we know what we're dealing with, they know we sent someone.

A triumphant smirk slid onto Natasha's face, Fury was smarter than Clint, but not smart enough. He didn't know she'd hijacked him or what the mission was, but it was clear to Natasha that SHIELD was the intended scapegoat for this murder, more specifically Hawkeye. That posed a problem. If she wanted to complete her mission she would have to blame it on SHIELD, but if she wanted to defect, she couldn't kill Hawkeye or get him arrested.

The stingers in the guards would render them unconscious for the better part of an hour, plenty of time to kill her target and pin it on hawkeye sending him on the run with the russians calling for SHIELD's blood. SHIELD would have no evidence against the russians except that they sent an agent, which would easily be rationalised as defense. " _We were suspicious that SHIELD would attempt something at the meeting, so we sent an agent to prevent any trouble. We were right, but underestimated SHIELD's brutality as they tortured our agent to keep them from interfering. We have not had contact since the death of our beloved ambassador and can only assume that they were killed by SHIELD's own agent: Hawkeye."_ The argument was ridiculously predictable, but would be effective regardless. She was the only one with enough information to see it coming. Hawkeye wouldn't stand a chance. She let out a small sigh. Natasha had a lot of planning to do before the peace conference tomorrow.

...

As his camp came into view Clint immediately noticed that things were amiss. His sleeping bag was neatly made, his scope had a pool of dried black ink underneath it, and his laptop had been moved. First he ran to the sleeping bag on top of which was placed a note. He didn't even need to see the kiss on it to know who it was from. Without bothering to open the note he continued to almost frantically check his belongings. His scope was probably ruined, the Black Widow symbol on it permanently stained the lense. His ammo bag had been emptied, with all but shafts of arrows and empty clips left to taunt him. Full of dread he opened his computer and held his breath. Strangely it seemed fine. He did a virus scan and brought up nothing. He checked his communication line to Fury and paled. She had sent a message to Fury. It was nothing too bad, and Fury hadn't responded yet so it might not be too late to fix things and make sure she stayed out of his communication lines. _Communication!_ He suddenly remembered the note in his hands and opened it. It was in morse code. _No need to make it easy for me Widow_ , he thought sarcastically. Thankfully he did remember all of his morse code and quickly translated the note in his head:

Bug out of my op birdboy before you get hurt.

You shouldn't play with fire, you only get burned.

On the surface Widow was gloating over her destruction of his camp as revenge for him messing up her operation the night before. But something about the last line felt weirdly familiar. Leave it to Natasha to speak in code within another code. The phrasing didn't feel like she was talking about him in that second line, more like she was talking about someone else, maybe even herself. Anxious to discover if there were any mentions of 'fire' in Black Widow's file, he opened it on his laptop. What he did not expect to happen was an hawk trapped in a spider's web as blood filled the screen.

"Nononononononono!" He frantically chanted at the computer. He frantically tried to click anywhere and held the power-button down as hard as he could.

"Crap! Damnit Widow!" The blood graphic faded to reveal a dead hawk and then quickly shut-off. He pounded his fist against the wooden table in frustration. _How?! Why?!_ He had been certain that she would want to leave Russia and join SHIELD, that she was trying to throw the russians off before she defected. But they wouldn't know about this. This was personal. She found out where he would be hiding and told him to back-off. He was completely confused and ashamed. How could he have been so predictable! How come he hadn't set up better defenses. He had truste his instincts, and while it usually worked, this time she burned him.

He shook his head of any emotion. Widow was his enemy, and she had exploited the trust he had given her. She may still decide to join him, but until then, he would not cut her anymore slack.

Redetermined to complete his mission in spite of Romanov, he laid out what he had brought with him that day, the only ammunition he had left, and any other materials he found to take inventory. He was good with improvisation. Widow hadn't beaten him yet.

 **...**

 **Thanks for reading! Sorry this took so long, I'm trying to find a good way to build to the climax, I don't want you guys to see it coming. ;)**

 **Please review! I only get better when I have feedback to learn from. It is also very motivational and makes me jump up and down like a 5-year-old. Thanks again!**


	5. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6- Target Locked_

As the clock turned to 5am Romanov rolled out of bed and did her morning workout. Today it would be less intense so she could be rested for whatever challenges she would face during her mission. ' _Though none from Hawkeye_ ' she thought to herself. A wry smile snuck onto her face as she imagined what his response would be. Once her workout was complete she buried all her emotions (which ones she had) and personality deep inside herself. Today she could have no distractions, no slip-ups, and no mishaps. Widow let her renowned discipline take over as she prepared her costume. Today she would let her natural bright red hair down so her combat wasn't hindered by a wig. She wore her boots, which although heeled, were infinitely more comfortable and had much better balance than any other shoe she had encountered. Her signature black jumpsuit was on along with her bracelets, filled with various 'bites', and her belt, discs armed to explode if she needed them. Knives were scattered throughout the folds of her costume and a lockpick was tucked in her belt by the small of her back. After doing one final weapon and mirror check, the Black Widow was ready.

There was still several hours before the conference would start, but infiltration would be easier beforehand when no one had extra guards posted to save face. Widow elegantly flipped over the fence with the help of a cable before neatly landing behind some bushes. From there Widow stuck to the shadows as she made her way around the grounds and into the building through an emergency exit propped open for smoking. She new that the emergency exit connected to a staircase that reached to the roof. She listened for any people on the staircase (or approaching it) before silently darting up the steps. As she reached the 3rd floor a door opened on the level above her and an Hungarian guard stepped onto the staircase. He was heading down the stairs towards her so she darted inside the 3rd floor. The guard was suspicious and walked through the door. He looked around the hallway but, seeing no one, shrugged it off and continued down the staircase. Widow slowly let out a breath from where she was secured to the ceiling of the 3rd floor and dropped gracefully to the ground. She had been so focused on her next move that she hadn't heard him approach the door. That was too close to discovery for her standards. She scouted the conference room on the floor where the guard had come from and stole a pitcher and a tray of refreshments which she stashed in a vent in the women's bathroom.

Confident that she had things set-up, Widow climbed the last few flight of stairs until she reached the roof. From here she would wait until everyone had arrived at the conference; there was still plenty of thinking to do about how to get both Hawkeye and herself off the hook.

There was an half an hour left before people would begin arriving at the conference when Natasha realized that in once they had pinned it completely on SHIELD if she disappeared she would be a liability, one of the few people who knew the truth of what happened. Hawkeye and Fury they would make incredible unless she told them the truth about her mission and gave details that the russians couldn't deny. If she did this, SHIELD would likely protect her from the ensuing russian hits, but even they struggled against Hydra. She didn't know very much about Hydra except their basic philosophies and that they worked with the KGB to create the Black Widow program. She couldn't remember all of it, she didn't like to, but she did remember the feeling that Hydra was everywhere and that it was patient. A deadly combination. The situation came down to this she realized: _I either trust that Clint and SHIELD will believe me and protect me (to the best of their abilities) from the enemies I'll make from defecting; or I pin this murder on SHIELD, start a war, lose my one chance to get away from Russia, and eventually be promoted to where I organize the game, or become too powerful for them to trust me._ Natasha frowned. She was approaching that level of power and knew that the only reason Russia still trusted her was because of the code words embedded into her by the Black Widow program. They were part of the reason she couldn't remember much of her time there or before there. They didn't want their agents to know how they were created. The database hardly had any information on the program as well. Apparently no one wanted to know what happened there.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs to the roof shook Natasha from her thoughts. The Black Widow instantly reacted by lying down so her body was obscured from the stairway by the elevator controls. But instead of scanning the rooftop and leaving like Widow expected, she heard the beat of heavy footsteps on concrete come towards her hiding spot. Widow aimed a grappling line from her stinger at the corner of the roof where the anchor would be hidden by the rain gutter. Timing her shot to the increasingly loud footsteps, Widow anchored her chord and quietly rolled off the roof before flattening herself against the building, supporting half her weight on the chord with one foot on the edge of a windowsill. From her position she could her the lock to the elevator pulleys being picked and unlocked. The lid to the shaft creaked open before something was attached to the mechanisms inside. The lid dropped shut and the lock was replaced before the footsteps padded away and back down the steps. Hitting a button on her bracelet the cord retracted pulling her back to the roof. Widow peeked her head over the ledge to ensure the man (the footsteps were too heavy for a woman's) had left before climbing back onto the roof. She examined the elevator controls: a newer, more complex lock was in the place of the old one and Widow thought she could hear a faint beeping inside. She was going to pick the lock when the arrival of the Russian ambassador interrupted her. She would have to look later, right now she needed to get into position.

Hawkeye frowned as he saw Natasha leave the roof. She hadn't known that man would be there, but it didn't look like she had time to figure out what he'd done. He'd just have to take a look himself.

After heading back inside Natasha slipped into her disguise, a uniform borrowed from one of the servers who had to call in 'sick' today. Although the long cuffs hid her bracelets, her jumpsuit was easy to see through the collared white shirt so she stashed it in a vent in the bathroom, its color making it difficult for anyone to see that it was there. She applied some lipstick and basic makeup to draw some attention but not _too_ much attention and retrieved her tray and pitcher from the vent. The form-fitting outfit made it difficult to conceal the american gun, but the long skirt had some ruffles and a fairly long slit up the side. She attached a holster to the inside of one of her legs and placed the gun in it. Widow briefly checked her reflection for any bumps or indications of weapons. Satisfied that she looked harmless enough she placed the tray in one hand and the pitcher in the other. As she walked out of the bathroom with enough clumsiness in her step to disguise her grace she thought to herself wryly, ' _Poison. It'd be so simple. No mess, blame it on SHIELD, No worries. But no, it_ _ **has**_ _to be a shooting, because SHIELD loves guns.'_ She switched her focus to the task at hand as she entered the conference room. Another server had just left so a few of the guards gave her curious glances, but most didn't notice and none made any move toward her. She methodically walked around the table filling glasses and serving finger-food until she was close enough to her target.

With a push of a button on her left bracelet the guards around the room spasmed before dropping to the floor. She drew her weapon and quickly shot all of the personal security guards, save the americans, in the shoulder. She killed the guards of the russian and everyone was to petrified to move as she leveled her gun at his head. The jammer her bracelets were producing prevented any calls for help anyways, but for the drama she shouted.

"Nobody move! I'm only here for him. He wants to start a war." He looked at her unafraid but confused. In russian she hissed at him, "Вы пережили вашу полноценность." At this he grinned and looked almost at the point of laughing. It perplexed her and made her anxious. Why was he so amused? Before she could shake off the confusion her gun was knocked out of her hand by an arrow that proceeded to hit the archway of the stairwell before exploding.

Natasha instinctively shielded her face with her arms and her target with her body. She cursed in russian. ' _I told him to stay out of this! He's just making it worse!'_ she yelled in her head. She was angry now. She had given him the same chance he had offered her, a way out, and he ignored it. She reached for the gun but a strong arm yanked her back. Instead of fighting it Widow used the push to backflip over her attacker to a nearby incapacitated guard. She grabbed his weapon and leveled it at her attacker.

"What are you doing here Hawkeye?" She demanded. He seemed more worried about something else than the fact she had a gun on him so she shot the ground next to him to get his attention.

"What the-Be quiet Widow! I'm trying to listen!"

"Listen to what?"

"The comms of the hit-team trying to kill us!"

"Nice try, but no one would want to kill _both_ of us."

"Not unless you had become too powerful, and were worried you defect!"

"Really?! Right now is when you want to bring this up?!"

"No, but you wouldn't stop pointing a gun at me unless I partially explained."

"What makes you think I'll stop now?"

"Nothing. Look, we need to get out of here. I sabotaged their sabotage of the elevator and my arrow stopped them from being able to get to us via the stairs. We have to get to the other stairs because there are snipers covering all the fire-escapes and windows." Clint began to pull the american ambassador to an alcove away from the table and ordered his guards to move the wounded away from any windows or unstable structures. Natasha wanted to break his shooting arm, but knew that it wouldn't help the situation. So instead she grabbed the ambassador's arm and yanked him towards the rubble guarding the stairway. She tied his hands behind his back with fabric from his own coat before walking up to Clint and dragging him away from the group towards the women's bathroom. He stopped her outside of the door.

"Wow Natasha I'm flattered, but I don't think this is really the right time..." He tried to subtly pull out of her grasp.

"Shut up and stop squirming. I need to know what's going on here and if we can reach an understanding." He stilled in her hold and stood up straighter. Hawkeye was a little relieved, she hadn't killed him-yet.

"Who exactly is after us? Numbers? Resources? What are we up against?" Clint couldn't help but smile when she said 'we', but he kept it out of his voice.

"They're russian, going from the uniforms and weapons. They were speaking hungarian on their comms but lots of russian words kept popping up and they had accents. There are three different teams that I know of: Snipers, which are stationed all around the building; infiltrators, like the one who tried to sabotage the elevator; and ground troops, just brute force to muscle in and cover the area outside the building. The infiltrators also have explosive expertise."

"Ok. Anything out of the ordinary weapon's or tactics wise?" ' _She just believed me...What the heck just happened?'_ He paused for a moment before continuing.

"The snipers had standard rifles, and the infiltrators had regular weapons as well as far as I could tell, but the ground troops are different. Some of them have strange armor and a couple of larger guns I couldn't tell what they did, but parts of them seemed to glow green." ' _Why are you trusting him? Does he look like he's lying? No. Then we trust him for now, but we watch our backs like always. Ok. The armor and weapons, who does that sound like...'_

"Hydra."

"Crap."

"The irregularities you describe sound like Hydra."

"I hate those guys!"

"I don't like them either, but it makes getting out of here more complicated."

"Especially with all these people."

"What do you mean with all these people? They're after us, we're getting out. Worrying about them just makes things more complicated."

"But leaving them to die isn't right."

"What does it matter what is right if we're dead? Think it through Hawkeye! You know I'm right. Let me finish my mission and let's get out of here."

"What does survival mean if we sacrifice others to get there?" Clint grabbed her arm as Natasha tried to walk away. "This is what joining SHIELD is about Natasha. We watch each other's backs and we help the people who can't help themselves."

"That's just a fantasy Clint. SHIELD has their fare share of blood on their hands."

"I know. I'm an assassin. I've done plenty of their dirty work. But its goal is always the same. Peace and security." He held his breath for Natasha's response. She didn't move for a moment though Clint could almost see the gears turning in her head.

' _He's so naive. But he's not wrong. Not wrong?! This is exactly the hero complex you criticised him for! But what if it lets me feel again? Do you want to feel again? After everything you've done?'_

"Natasha?" His voice was hesitant. This was an important decision for her to make, but they were running out of time and if he didn't get her help with this he probably wouldn't make it out alive. His heart jumped when she whirled back toward him.

"I don't know if we can get them out."

"We can try. I tried to contact SHIELD to set up an extraction but..." A smirk flickered on her face remembering her prank and she tossed him her cloned communicator. His eyes narrowed as he snatched it out of the air. He immediately began typing into it and she turned off her comms jammers so he could get a message out. While he worked on that she went into the bathroom and retrieved her uniform. Anonymity wouldn't help her much at this point.

When she returned from the bathroom Clint was grumbling about jammers and stupid Hydra while he paced around the alcove. The american ambassador looked frightened and angry but the russian ambassador was chuckling, hands still tied behind his back. He knew something, and she would know it too soon.

...

Thanks again everyone! Sorry for the long wait! I'm really excited for the climax that's coming up and I really want to make sure I get it right. As always comments are greatly appreciated. Theories on what the man knows that Natasha doesn't? How will they get out of this? Why is Hydra involved? DUH DUH DUHHHHHH! Find out next time! ;)


	6. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7- Shots Fired_

Widow marched over to the chuckling ambassador reached behind him and bent one of his fingers at an awkward angle. A cry of pain escaped his lips before he began chuckling again.

"What is so amusing?" She spoke in russian because she didn't want anyone to know what they were saying. If this situation made him laugh, then he knew something important and knowing more than others gave her an edge.

"You have grown Natalia."

"How do you know me?"

"What, do you not remember me Czarina?"

"Who are you? Why are you my target?"

"You mean they didn't tell you? I suppose they assumed a clever girl like you would figure it out, or they wouldn't have sent so many."

"Stop playing games."

"But you used to love them Czarina. You were always so good at finding out my secrets." He seemed to trail off for a moment before remembering that Widow was threatening him.

"Who are you?"

"Well it seems that times change, or at least some things do. You were always curious, but you used to read my mind. Shall I tell you a story Czarina?" He seemed relaxed under her intense stone gaze.

"It was a very long time ago in Stalingrad. There was fire everywhere, and most people were dead; trapped under collapsed buildings or burned alive. Those were the lucky ones, their deaths were quick, the ones who asphyxiated due to the smoke suffered the most. I put a bullet in their heads if I found them. It was a mercy, most of them did not have the breath to object anyway. But as I scanned my area for survivors I saw a small figure staring into the wreckage of one of the houses. She wasn't crying or moving, just staring. Like she was trying to understand what the flames were thinking." Natasha held her breath and didn't move an inch as suppressed images flashed into her vision. Flames, burning wood in a heap in front of her. A horrible stench that she would later know as burning flesh mixing with the smoke in her lungs. She had tied a scarf around her mouth and nose because the smoke was bothering her, but it didn't make much of a difference. The windows were shattered and her mirror was warped by the heat of the flames. Her porcelain ballerina lay shattered next to it; the porcelain face unaffected by the heat of the fire.

Natasha slowly inhaled to try and clear the scent of charred flesh from her lungs.

"Get to the-Ahhhh!" An explosion went off in the nearby conference room and the explosion tossed Natasha into the rubble beside the ambassador. She couldn't hear because of the explosion, but she felt the snap of his finger when it broke from the force of her movement. Despite everything she had not relinquished her hold on it for one second.

Twisting to her feet, Natasha walked over to Clint while the ringing in her ears faded. He was upset and and blood leaking into his eye from a head wound- a possible concussion.

"Get your target, we gotta MOVE!" His voice broke through the ringing. She assessed the damage to the others in the room. Only one of the ambassador's guards was still conscious and he was losing blood fast from the shoulder wound Widow had given and his right leg where a piece of the ceiling had crushed it. The russian had one guard left alive, and while he was relatively unscathed, his mind was elsewhere. ' _He's likely re-living a similar traumatic experience, as you were moments ago. It doesn't make a difference. They'll all only slow us down. Stupid Clint.'_ The american ambassador was relatively unscathed as well because a guard had shielded him from the blast with his body, giving his life in the process. He was as pale as snow, covered in dust and plaster, and he looked rooted to the spot. Moving him would be a pain. Her instincts and training were screaming at her to run and leave these helpless idiots behind, ' _but Clint won't leave them and he is our ticket into SHIELD and the only way we will ever get them to believe us.'_ she rationalized. She organized her thoughts the way the Red Room taught her, efficiently and with purpose.

' _What is your goal?'_

' _To get out of here alive to join SHIELD'_

' _What does that require?'_

' _A temporary safehouse unknown to my enemies that Hawkeye, I, and the two ambassadors can get to.'_

' _What would fit those requirements?'_

' _Somewhere past their net. Somewhere downhill if we have to carry anyone. Somewhere invisible in plain sight.'_

' _Where can you get to?'_

' _The maintenance control room in the basement.'_

' _How will you get there?'_

"Elevator shaft. Now. Take him, I'll get the mess." She jolted into action. Now she had a plan, and now she could win. Hawkeye gave her a questioning look but left his vigil of the perimeter to pick up the american ambassador. Black Widow took out her gun and shot the wounded and vacant guards in the head without hesitation. Clint nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What the hell was that?! I thought we agreed we were saving these people!" He was furious and distrustful, he made no effort to hide it. In his eyes the hope dimmed a bit and became tinged with disgust. They did not have time for this.

"We are saving who we can. The rest of them are either dead or dying. They would have slowed us down, unless of course you can carry three men while sliding down an elevator shaft into a possible kill-box? No? Did you have some other brilliant plan to get out of here?" He remained silent though his body was tense with restraint.

"Then shut-up and help me get us out of here. We don't have time for moral debates." She yanked the russian to his feet and stuck an acid stinger on the elevator doors. She didn't turn, but she could feel Clint's eyes boring into her back. The ambassadors, thankfully, remained silent.

"If you have something to say Hawk you better spit it out before it burns your tongue."

"I guess I got it wrong. You're not just a hero working for the wrong side." Natasha didn't speak; there was nothing to say. In the meantime the acid had eaten away enough of the metal, so she kicked the weakened area, her foot forcing its way into the air of the elevator shaft. With the opening she wedged a metal bar from the rubble in-between the doors to keep them open.

"Do you have a rope and a magnet?"

"I can attach to the elevator and repel down if that's what you're asking." He couldn't keep the snark and annoyance out of his voice, but Widow ignored it.

"Good." With that she shot a grappling cord of her own into the elevator above them, threw the russian over her shoulder, and lept into the void elevator shaft. She grunted a little with his weight as the cord caught before beginning to quickly lower them down the shaft. Hawkeye made a sound of annoyance and mumbled something about a 'show-off' under his breath before shooting one of his last three arrows into the darkness and following her into the void with the american.

Repelling the four levels didn't take long and Widow stopped before they reached the basement. She put her hand to the wall of the shaft for any large vibrations and listened to the sounds beneath her. On their level she could hear booted feet and various groans and grunts as they tried to shift the rubble on the stairways. Hawkeye had blocked them off well she grudgingly admitted. Hearing no reason to not continue downward she let the cord release the rest of the way. It wasn't quite long enough and ran out about 7ft above the bottom of the shaft. Widow would've dropped the russian the rest of the way, but she needed information, and it was hard to talk with broken ribs, so Natasha slowly let him down until she held only his wrist. He nearly touched the ground and started to squirm in her hold but instead of letting go her grip tightened and she used his weight to swing herself to the side of the shaft. Pushing off from the wall she flipped into the air while retracting her cable back into her bracelet. Her momentum pushed her close enough to one of the elevator's steel cables so she magnetized her bracelets, one on either side of the cable to slow her as she slid down it. She landed neatly on the ground and pushed her hair out of her face before walking to the draft from a crack in the closed elevator doors. She had just attached another acid stinger when she head an small 'oof' as Hawkeye landed without trouble, though the american sounded nauseated. She heard them walk toward her without retrieving the cable and she frowned.

"Retract your cable. They'll be able to find out where we are once they use the elevator. Or get to the fourth floor."  
"They won't get through the rubble I left for them on the stairs, and retracting the cable won't hide the holes in it from my arrow." He sounded very annoyed, as if these were the most obvious things in the world. ' _Over-confident fool'_ she thought. The acid ate through the doors again but she ignored it and walked over to Hawkeye, her bangs almost bushing against his forehead.

"Then cut it." Her voice was strict and void of emotion and it sent chills down his spine.

"Fine." He growled, "But don't be mad when I only have one arrow to cover us with."

"I thought you were accurate with everything."

"I am."

"Then this shouldn't be a problem. You have a gun?"

"Of course, but just a handgun-"

"Problem solved. Now cut it so we can go. I don't want to be where the elevator can crush us for very long."

"What, you don't like the tight quarters Romanoff? I'm offended." She just glared at him.

"Fine I'm cutting it, I'm cutting it. Sheesh. Talk about no sense of humor."

"How can you go from yelling at me to flirting with me in seconds?" She asked, worn down and perplexed by his attitude.

"Some people say it's how I deal with stress, but I just think I'm special." He released his second to last arrow from his bow and the cable fell to the ground. She stared at him unconvinced.

"Ok, fine you got me. Fighting doesn't help anyone right now and flirting is only one syllable off so..."

"Forget it." The arrow Hawkeye used embedded itself in front of her as she walked toward the elevator doors. She glared at him.

"Awww he likes you." He responded. She huffed at him before kicking the elevator doors, this time with enough force to punch a hole for an entry way. She stepped through stealthily, guns at the ready, then motioned for the men to follow her. Clint first ushered the russian through the opening.

"Она не в твоей лиге." He chuckled to Clint as he walked through. The american ambassador just gave Clint a grateful, albeit exhausted look as he climbed through the opening.

Natasha pretended to ignore the others as she led them to the maintenance control center. It was a weird feature of the building, but all of the systems: thermal, electric, hydro, and radio; were controlled from that room. There was a separate room on the ground floor for monitoring the cameras, but it was easy to control from there. They only walked down the dimly lit hallway for a few moments before they reached it. Widow looked inside before ushering the men in and locking the door behind them. She breathed a sigh of relief. Phase one of her plan had worked. Now to figure out phase two.

Hawkeye had gotten the ambassadors settled in two metal folding chairs before sitting on the ground himself. He looked a little beat up, though he likely wouldn't admit it. His file had said he was stubborn, but if that hadn't convinced her, his charging in today to warn/stop her was proof enough. Natasha took a calming breath to focus. She needed information from her target. She was confident that Hydra/Russia wouldn't know they were alive for at least half an hour, likely for an hour. She had time to interrogate him, and Hawkeye's squeamish stomach wasn't going to keep her from answers.

Without warning, Widow grabbed her target by the throat and dragged him from his chair so she could interrogate him in the small closet in the back of the room. The man choked in surprise and Hawkeye lept to his feet.

"Would you stop Widow?! We're safe down here for now, we need to think up a plan!"

"I need more information. He has it. Have you not seen how calm he is! He has been expecting this, he knows who I am! I need answers Clint!" She spat. "And no self-righteous SHIELD agent is going to keep me from them!" She had practically yelled at him. That didn't happen. When Widow was angry she was dangerous, and she knew how to be heard, but when she was angry she was silent and deadly. This was a new feeling, or...no...not new...forgotten. She shook her head in confusion while Clint just stood there in shock. There were tears in her eyes. Something was very wrong. She had used his name. He couldn't move, her vengeful and burning gaze rooted him to the spot. The american ambassador woke from his doze but quickly averted his eyes from the dangerous pair. Natasha hadn't relinquished her hold on the russian's neck this entire time, though her hand wasn't big enough to choke him. Natasha quickly spun on her heels and threw her target into the closet before slamming the door behind her. Freed from his daze, Clint turned to the american,

"You should get some rest, we're safe here for now, but you'll need your strength later." the man just nodded before crawling to a corner of the room and almost instantly passing out. ' _Poor guy. Some people just aren't cut out for this like I am.'_ He groaned to himself, ' _Your broken rib would like to differ. Broken rib? Ha-Ow! I've had worse. Doesn't matter, we can fix it later anyways. But Natasha should not be alone right now.'_ He thought about it for a minute. Widow might kill him if he eavesdropped, but she hadn't told him not to, and she seemed unhinged right now; like the world was falling apart underneath her. ' _No one should go through that alone, because when you fall, you never know what will come out the other side.'_ His mind made up, Clint tip-toed to the closet door and listened as hard as he could. It didn't take long for muffled voices speaking in russian to reach his ears.

"No more grenades, snipers, or witnesses. You're going to tell me what I want to know."

"And what is it that you want to know Czarina? Why they want to kill me? Or why they want to kill you?" He paused, searching her eyes for a moment. While her emerald orbs were usually masked and bright, now they bled confusion and frustration, clouded by emotion. She didn't respond, just stared at him and waited for him to continue speaking.

"Fortunately, both questions can be answered with one story. I believe I left off in Stalingrad, yes? The girl with the flames?" Widow simply nodded once, her eyes never leaving his face. "When I found the curious and resourceful little girl I knew she was valuable. She had survived, with minimal damage, an attack that killed thousands, and instead of crying or screaming or hiding, stood to watch the flames as they turned all she had known into ash." Natasha was prepared for the scent this time, she realized this is why she prefered no flammable attacks. Not only were they stealthier, but they brought up no memories. She wondered if the Red Room had known this and that was really why they had condemned the use of fire. She shifted her mind back to the present as best she could when he continued.

"I took the little girl home, gave her food and clothes, taught her what I knew, and we played games together. One of her favorites was hide and seek. She could be very quiet when she wanted to, and her small size let her fit in many unusual places. Once I tricked her into leaving her place so I could find her, I told her it was dinner time, she was furious and never fell for it again. When seeking she was so determined and perceptive she would find me almost every time. She was always curious about how I provided for us, how I worked, she must have been poor before. I would try to appease her curiosity, but as the time passed I grew very fond of her, and I began to try and preserve what little innocence she had left. But it didn't work, she always knew when I was lying." Wido held her breath and tried not to succumb to the images of a happy little girl with red hair playing hide-and-seek.

"Things went well for a year before they found her. I had begun work on a new program inspired by my little Czarina. She seemed like an ideal spy. She could fit in useful places, was good at listening, was driven to solve whatever problems she faced, and could find out whatever information she truly wanted. It impressed me and I thought how useful it would be to train young girls to develop these talents and make the perfect spies. The KGB liked this idea and put me in-charge of its development and implementation. They made a deal with an outside corporation called Hydra to help me. They introduced ideas of brainwashing and memory suppression which they had apparently used before on a project they called the Winter Soldier. While I was somewhat uncomfortable with it, my superiors demanded it and requested a form of super-serum to produce spies with bodies perfect for their missions from Hydra. Once the plans for the school were complete and the preliminary experiments showed good results there was a celebratory dinner at my house. Baron Strucker and the KGB leadership were all there. I don't know how, but the Baron found my Czarina. He asked her some questions and seemed to know that she was the inspiration for the program. He told the KGB that she would make an ideal candidate and they agreed. She was taken from me and drafted into the school's first class."

Images of a bald man with a monocle and a red hand flashed into Natasha's memory along with a feeling of fear. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched with a child's eyes the man grab her chin. Little Natasha didn't like it and grabbed the man's thumb with one hand and his wrist in the other before yanking down with all her weight. She bent the thumb backwards a little but the man didn't move otherwise. He let go of her face and Natasha quickly scurried back to put a safe distance between them. She wanted to call for someone, but that would be a sign of weakness and someone had told her to be silent, so she didn't make a sound. They stared eachother down for what seemed like an eternity but Natasha refused to show her fear. She didn't trust this man. He calmly turned his back on her and walked away with an eerie calm that sent shivers down Natasha's spine. He was dangerous. Despite the danger she was curious, and so, quietly followed him out of the room into the hall. She overheard snatches of an ensuing conversation in the dining room. She remembered a man being afraid but trying to hide it, and cold emotionless voices. She didn't like what they were saying, and neither did the friendly man, he became very quiet, only mentioning a few words here and there.

Images of a ballet studio with girls practicing forms with precision rushed to the fore-front of her mind. The rest of the images that flashed in her vision were familiar, taking place in the Red Room releasing some suppressed ones. Sparring and learning from a man with a metal arm- the Winter Soldier. He became her protector for a while, but the Red Room made him leave too. Natasha was always alone. She could only rely on herself because people disappear, they abandon you and make false promises. That's why she couldn't feel. Her heart had been burned so many times that the only way to keep it from breaking was freezing it.

A single tear slid down her cheek. The man remained silent in his chair, wary of the response Natasha would have to this information. Clint clenched his fists in rage for what had happened to her. When he heard the grabbing and cocking of a pistol he jumped up and yanked the door open.

"Natasha don't!" He was shocked by the sight that greeted him. The ambassador was sitting calmly in his chair and Natasha stood rigid a single tear-track on her cheek with a pistol leveled at the ambassador's head. Her eyes lacked the clarity and focus that they normally did and she almost seemed to tremble. She didn't look at Clint, but she didn't shoot the ambassador either. He would have to play this very carefully to avoid anyone, including himself, dying.

 **So sorry for taking so long! School got crazy busy and I wanted to make sure I got Black Widow's story all in one chapter and as accurate as I want it to be. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment! I love to hear what you have to say and it helps me become a better writer!**

 **Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy it!**


	7. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8- Out of Amo_

"Natasha, calm down. We need him alive. He dies, Hydra wins." She didn't look at Clint, but the ambassador started to smirk the tiniest bit. "I know you're reliving something horrible right now, but you have to put that aside until we finish the job." He put both his hands in the air in a non-threatening manner and slowly took a silent step towards her.

"Don't move." She bit out. "Come any closer and I _will_ blow his brains out." her voice didn't seem emotionless like when she was on a mission, or angry like when she was trying to scare him, it seemed desperate, and maybe a bit scared. He crouched on the ground to make himself even smaller.

"It's ok Natasha. You're all past that. You're not controlled by him anymore. He rescued you right? Shouldn't you return the favor?" She shot Clint a glare filled with frostbite before returning her stare to the man. He kept quiet, waiting to see how she would respond. After what felt like an hour, but was only a minute, she spoke.

"He shouldn't have saved me." Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly. "He only took me to use me. I should have died with the others. With my-" She cut herself off and bit her lip. The faint smirk that slid onto the russian's face vanished at her words. She grinned menacingly at his response.

"You didn't think you could only tell me the good and I wouldn't remember the bad, did you?" He swallowed in his chair. "You didn't just rescue me. You used me to get what you needed. When they took me you didn't miss your Czarina, you missed your informant. You may have cared for me on some level, but no more than a pet to be trained." Clint stayed silent to learn what he hadn't overheard from the russian. "You started the Black Widow program informally with me, long before you proposed to make it a school. _You_ got Hydra involved. Pushing my body to see what could make it break, then adding serums to do it all over again. You wanted to witness the Winter Soldier first-hand, so you let him train us. But when he started to protect me Hydra was thrilled, they wanted strong progeny to carry the serum's genetics. But you were scared. You wanted Czarina under your thumb and completely dependent on you." She spat the nickname ferociously. "When the KGB found out how much individual power you were gaining from the program they replaced you. But they figured out that you didn't leave all your power behind, didn't they? That's why they ordered the kill-Why they sent me. To see just how dangerous you really are, if you could still control me."

"Natasha..." Clint quietly said in warning. He didn't want to get in a hand to hand fight with the Widow, she would probably win, but he couldn't let her shoot the russian either. Calming her down was still the safest option.

"I'm not going to kill you yet. I have a job to do, and you're going to help me do it. Then I'll let you embrace death, if you're lucky-" She was cut off by the door to the room getting kicked down and three men dressed in green and black bursting into the room. Widow and Hawkeye both instantly jumped into action. Natasha ducked behind the wall of the closet and quickly fired off three shots. Hawkeye went from his crouching position into a roll towards where the american ambassador was waking up. Gunfire echoed in the room. Hawkeye fired 4 quick shots, hitting the closer two men in the head and the farther two in the leg.

At the same time Natasha kicked the chair out from underneath her target to get him out of the fire. She then popped around the wall of the closet and shot the closest approaching guards in the shoulders in an attempt to disable their firing arms. She barely noticed the sting as bullets grazed her when she ducked back behind the wall. The sound of two bodies thumping on the floor pushed Natasha out of her cover again. This time she holstered her gun so she could get in close. The smell of gunpowder and blood saturated her nose as she rolled out the closet and alongside one of men who was clutching his leg in pain. From her crouching position on the ground she swept his legs out from underneath him while he was off balance before fluidly grabbing his gun arm and shooting the other soldier in the arm and breaking the first soldier's. The first soldier cried out in pain and she climbed on top of him to hold him down. Hawkeye jumped over to the second soldier as he fell down from the pain and loss of blood. He grabbed his helmet before pushing the soldier the rest of the way to the ground and holding him there with his boot. Widow ripped off her soldier's helmet, tossed it to the side, and grabbed the walkie from his belt. She held it up to her ear to hear if there was any chatter and if any of the soldiers had been able to indicate distress. A voice in russian came through with a lot of static.

"Report. Did you find them?-zzzxxxkkkkk- Report! -zzzxxxxkkk- need-zzxxkk- the -zzxxkk- Soldier?" She paled a little at the possible mention of the winter soldier but her expression didn't otherwise change.

"Name and rank." She ordered the soldier, her arm still wrapped around his broken one. He hesitated and she yanked on his arm to incentivise him. After he screamed she stared at him until he answered.

"Private Ivanov!" He panted. She stared him down. It was obviously a pseudonym, but if he was more afraid of his boss than he was already of her he wouldn't tell her more, at least not without more time to interrogate him.

"Widow, we have to move now! These guys are Hydra, which means they're coming to tie up any loose ends from the building. You know that means us, we have to move!" He killed the man he was restraining before jogging over to the American ambassador who was in shock, but otherwise fine. She shook her head. She understood the situation, she didn't need some amateur to tell her how to do her job. Gripping the walkie fiercely she activated the mike and yelled in her best impression of the private,

"Negative. The Black widow is dead. But the Hawk escaped with her target. Orders?"

"-zzzxxxkkkkk-Work-zzzxxxxkkk-bring-zzzxxk-her body-zzzxxxkkk-Make-zzxxkk-Hawk-zzxx kk-come to us."

Hawkeye looked at her with a quirked brow with the ambassador leaning heavily on his shoulder. She didn't acknowledge him as she went to check on the Russian Ambassador. She frowned when she saw the amount of blood he had lost and was losing.

"Hydra crossed the KGB didn't they? That's why they wanted you dead. You were selling them secrets and spreading bad intel, the war was just a bonus." He grinned weakly up at her.

"You were to fulfill your purpose as Hydra's most valuable asset. You still will." He chuckled but began to cough up blood.

"I'm no servant of Hydra or the KGB. Neither trust me enough to keep me alive any longer after this. They have their prodigy, their Soldier..." She thought for a moment as he slowly realized something. The soldier. He knew her. He had trained her. He was coming. They had to get out of here fast. She looked down at the dead ambassador, a smile permanently frozen on his face. Taking out her pistol she fired three times into his chest before reloading and marching over to where Hawkeye was standing in disappointment and confusion. They didn't have time for his 'morality' lessons.

"We have to go now. Leave him. The Soldier is coming for us."

"Leave him? I thought we decided to save as many as possible! Including the russian Ambassador, who you just shot!" Her scowl deepened as he went on. She shoved him up against the wall, the ambassador fell to the ground and she pinned his arms and held his neck with a grip the was whiter than her face.

"We don't have time for your stupid hero complex! I mean it this time! Hydra doesn't care about him, if anything the KGB want him alive so they can still blame you for the rest of this mess! Now I need you to shut-up and trust me because the Soldier is coming and we don't have time to argue. I would leave you here to die if I could but I need as many cards as I can get because he knows-" Her rant abruptly ended as she swallowed and realized what she was about to reveal. Her emotions were getting the better of her, the ones she didn't think she could feel anymore. She shoved them all down and released Hawkeye from the wall. She looked out the door into the hall.

"He'll live, but we won't if you stay. So I'm going now. I hope you survive." She began jogging down the hallway the opposite direction of the elevator shaft they had entered from. She hoped Hawkeye would live, she wanted to get out of this hell and not get wiped but the chances were getting slimmer by the minute.

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Hawkeye slammed the wall with his fist in frustration. Why did everything have to be so difficult with Natasha? First she wanted him out of her turf, then she wanted his help, then suppressed memories are revealed and what was a whack mission to begin with becomes a Hydra KGB power play over a dead guy and a defecting spy...Who had conveniently abandoned him with a semi-conscious ambassador and five dead guys. He shook his head. There wasn't anything he could do about it except keep moving. However cold-hearted Natasha might be, she was right about switching locations.

While supporting the Ambassador with one arm he attempted to shake him awake en-route to the doorway. The Ambassador only mumbled and shook his head, seemingly trapped in a bad dream.

"Me too man. Me too." Clint commented to him.

With a bit of effort Clint made it back to the stairwell. He figured it wouldn't be safe to show up on Natasha's tail with the ambassador in her current state. Learning her past had really shaken her. If only he could get to her and keep the ambassador safe, he might be able to talk her down. She had been going solo for so long that she was getting stuck in her mind. Clint knew that trap and he didn't want her to get lost like he had. Losing her head in this situation would get them all killed. An outcome he would prefer to avoid at the moment.

On the first floor landing of the stairwell there was a broom closet door with a note resting against it. It had been written quickly, but the handwriting was easily recognizable as Natasha's.

Stash him in here if you must, then get off your butt and help me.

He rolled his eyes at her tone. As if he hadn't been helping this entire time. He thought about when Widow had needed his help specifically while he dragged the groggy ambassador into the closet and shut the door. He blushed at the realization that his original intervention was the only real help he'd given so far that she couldn't have done herself. Shrugging off his bruised ego he quietly and cautiously moved up the stairs. Carefully watching for any signs of movement he was a little surprised when he didn't find anything on the second floor landing, or the first. Either they had Natasha and thought he was dead, or they didn't care about cutting off any esca- his thoughts were interrupted when a large metal fist propelled his skull into unconsciousness.

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Natasha was surprised the Soldier had caught Clint off guard. While he was easy to surprise, he wasn't helpless. She only took silent shallow breaths as the soldier walked away with his prize, disturbing the air as little as possible. From her hiding place in the shadows of the stairwell ceiling she had seen the soldier's approach, but she had hesitated too long in warning Hawkeye. She didn't want to admit to herself that she was worried that even with the two of them they couldn't beat him in a fight. Not when he had backup a radio away, and when she had dwindling resources and with Hawkeye's poor hand-to-hand...They wouldn't have defeated him she decided. Not in close quarters like this when he was ready for them. Unfortunately, now she was out of active allies.

Hawkeye may not have been great hand-to-hand, but there was no one better at range. She needed to get outside the building, see where troops really were posted, and who was in charge so she could plan her attack. Not an escape, an attack. If she ran now she would never stop, and Hawkeye had gotten himself into this mess to help her. However much that was his fault, not hers, it still left her with a strange feeling. Something akin to hope, perhaps, and she wasn't ready to give that up. Not without a fight.

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Throbbing. That's all Hawkeye could feel as he drifted out of unconsciousness. There was a pulsing on the side of his skull that made it hard to focus. He weakly tried lifting his arms and realized that they were secured behind his back. He heard steps from someone, maybe two people, coming from around him. It was frustratingly hard to focus. Voices increased in volume and clarity as he became more aware. He realized they were speaking in russian.

"This isn't what I asked for! Where is the Widow, Soldier?" this voice was impatient and angry, almost desperate.

"She will come to us." His voice was calm. Both were obviously male, and while the other voice acted like he was in charge, this man seemed infinitely more in control of himself.

"And ignore over a decade of training and conditioning? Unlikely. You have made a grave mistake Soldier. I will have to report this." Widow was still out there. While it was likely she cut and run, some part of him still hoped she hadn't. That she had listened to Hawkeye and hoped for something better.

"Report when the mission is over. For now we wait for the Widow to strike." Then again, maybe it was better she run. He did not want her caught on his account. If anyone could turn a trap against an enemy it would be the Black Widow, but so outnumbered, it would be almost impossible.

Solid footsteps left the vicinity, and more anxious (and angry) ones continued to pace around him. He decided there was nothing left to overhear and let out an exaggerated groan.

"Where am I? What's going on?" He looked over to the officer. He had a face that looked permanently angry and his greying hair looked full and neat. When he heard Hawkeye he focused like a laser on his face. Hawkeye was used to scrutiny, but his glare was malicious enough to make him uncomfortable. The man began speaking in english.

"So the Hawk finally awakens. You disappoint me. I assumed you would be awake not long after the Soldier's attack, but it seems he hit you harder than I expected." Hawkeye noticed how he made it seem like it had been his plan to capture Hawkeye. Liar.

"Oh yeah? Well you disappoint me! I've been in much scarier places than this. Come on! Is this supposed to frighten me? Maybe if I were six and had little pink pigtails." To his credit, the officer didn't show any obvious signs of annoyance, but Hawkeye had enough practice watching Fury to see the twitch of an eyebrow and measure success.

"Our intent was not to frighten you, Agent Hawkeye. We simply wish to talk, specifically about your new friend, Black Widow." His voice darkened as he spoke her name and Hawkeye suppressed a shiver.

"Friend? What friend? You know the Widow. If she's anything like her reputation, then she cut and run a long time ago. She's too clever not to see how she's been set up." A smirk twitched onto the commander's face at this reveal. Damnit. He shouldn't have said that. Him and his stupid mouth.

"Ahhh, yes. And she was set up by the Soviets, no? We simply wish to retrieve what is ours. The Soviets want us out, we just ask they give back what we lent them."

"What do you mean, what you lent them? The Widow is Russian, has worked for them for years."

"She was born in Russia, yes, but the things that make her special came from Hydra. We were what made her lethal." He paused and thought for a moment.

"But you will get no more answers from me. It is your turn to confess. Where is the Widow?"

"Even if I knew I wouldn't tell you, Hydra scum." Hawkeye spat on his face.

"Oh and don't wipe that off, it's a dramatic improvement." The officer was clearly angry now and he wiped the spittle off his face with a gloved hand. Hawkeye was proud to notice that it clung to his glove and chin, leaving a dribble line down his cheek. Then it began.

He started by slapping Hawkeye with his glove. He knew he shouldn't have laughed, but it was hard to keep it in with how ridiculous the whole situation seemed. They wanted to capture the Widow, and got him instead, but she would be infinitely more dangerous in this situation than he. He had opened his big mouth and literally spat on an enemy officer (of Hydra, granted, but still an officer) who was now taking out his anger by trying to slap him with a glove. He stopped laughing when they switched to beating. It wasn't really for information, it was to bring the Widow. The more pain he endured, the harder it would be for him to escape and the more guilt it was supposed to cause in her. He wasn't sure if it would work, but after a time he hoped so, just to give him a bit of a break.

The blood mixed with his saliva was great for blinding his tormentors temporarily, and proved that he was still the world's best shot with anything, even his own spit. He would just have to hold on. He hoped Widow would do the same.

 **Sorry for taking so long to post. More happens! Duh duh duh! I can't wait to keep going with this story, Life is super busy right now and I have a bazillion other projects going on so I'm not sure when I will next get to post, but it would be a HUGE motivator if you would comment, as a guest or with your name, it doesn't matter. Thank you all my lovelies! :)**


	8. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9- Duck and Cover_

Natasha focused on her breath. In. Out. In. Out. Even she was feeling stressed under the pressure. She had seen where the Soldier went without getting caught. She only glimpsed Hawkeye, but she heard him. Even beaten to a pulp he was trying to infuriate people. Charging in their without prep would be suicide, even with her skills, and even if she did, they would have no place to go. Hydra had set up their base on the second floor of the building, but had control of the 1st and 3rd as well. The fourth was mostly rubble and too exposed to soviet snipers to defend properly, though the few Hydra corpses there proved that they had tried. It seemed that sabotage would be the best way out of this. With infiltration she risked attack from the soviet troops as soon as she was clear of Hydra.

She looked at the blueprints she had memorized in her head to see what ways out of the building there were that didn't involve crossing a street full of snipers. If only Clint were free. He could hit them before they could get a shot off. Her grenade launchers wouldn't shoot far enough and a pistol would be meaningless at that range...

She would need his bow, but a plan began to take shape in her mind.

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His vision was blurry. His aim was still good, but his spit had turned into just blood, and he was having trouble finding the energy to adjust his head to target them. They were taking a break, drinking water and watching the perimeter for the Widow. A wise precaution, but probably pointless. No way she'd jump headfirst into a firefight just to get him out of trouble.

The soldiers started talking again, he was too tired to translate the russian, but they seemed to be laughing. Clint sighed, at least they didn't need to take out any more anxiety or frustration on him. They hadn't given him any fatal injuries, yet, but that could change. They hadn't broken his arms or hands yet, which meant he could still shoot, _if_ Natasha came to get him. No! _When_ Natasha came to get him. He couldn't afford to give up on her yet. If he wanted he could escape the bonds on his hands from his circus/thieving days, but until she came, he would have nowhere to go.

Something dropped onto his lap. It was a rock. A piece of concrete actually, with a piece of paper tied to it. He checked on the guards to see if they were watching him and freed his hands. The paper came untied easily from the rock and it said:

Free your hands, wait for the third.

It was signed by a lipstick print. Clint quickly shoved it into his boot and hid the rock in his fist. His mind was racing, _wait for the third what?_ His worries were mostly drowned out by the relief that Natasha was coming.

The guards' mumbling started to fade into the background and the world around him started to dim. Natashaa was taking fore-BOOM!

A huge explosion went off somewhere over to the side, shocking CLint out of his stupor and the guards into action. Three of the six went off to check the explosion, the others backed towards Clint, their rifles pointing outwards into the darkness. The explosion must've hit the power. Clever Natasha. Now she could work in the-BOOM!

A second explosion shook the room. The guards looked at eachother and two ran off to heck on the others. The last guard backed up even closer to Hawkeye, trying to watch all sides at once. Amateur.

A third explosion shook his bruised limbs, this one sounded farther away than the others. _What is Natasha up to?_

The remaining guard looked frantically back and forth between the corridor his friends had left through and Clint, who mustered up a smile and winked at him. The soldier's face darkened and he readied the butt-end of his rifle, presumably to knock Clint unconscious. But when he looked away one last time Clint was ready. The rifle end still pointed away, Clint stood from his chair, elbowed the man in the throat, grabbed the rifle, and delivered a solid blow to the man's temple with the rifle's butt. Clint breathed heavily, hands on his knees as the man crumpled to the ground.

Natasha flipped gracefully down from the ceiling and landed with a kick to the soldier's face as he struggled to move upright. He stayed still after that.

"You alright?" She asked Clint tersely. He nodded, still out of breath and sore from the beating. "Can you shoot?" At this question Hawkeye stood up tall, seemingly recovered, with an annoyed look in his eye.

"Of course I can shoot. What the hell took you so long?" She smirked. _That's more like it._

" _Some_ people make plans so that they don't end up in corners." He stretched his arms out and rolled his shoulders.

"Plans. Pfff. Even the best plans get blown up. Look at this guy." He kicked the body for emphasis. Natasha just rolled her eyes.

"We can argue about this later. Catch!" She tossed him his bow and quiver. Despite the depressing number of arrows remaining, Hawkeye grinned from ear to ear.

"So this plan of yours, what do I need to do?"

"Follow me." She turned and strode into the darkness

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Natasha led Hawkeye around to the fire-escape door. The sunlight escaping from the outline ruined her darkvision, but they would be leaving soon anyway. Hawkeye had been uncharacteristically silent for most of the walk. It worried her.

"This is our exit. Outside of this there's a parking lot and then a garden that leads to the wall. If we get over that wall, we have communications and can bring your SHIELD friends to help."

"Ok"

"Our biggest problems are the soviet snipers covering the block, the Hydra teams covering from the building, and the Soldier."

"What about Soviet ground teams?"

"It's unlikely they'll deploy them, it would be too public and would probably get city police interested enough to ignore the bribes."

"Ok, so we've a got a ton of snipers between us and our exit. What did you explode in here to distract Hydra?"

"I had some grenades and they didn't leave many guards in the kitchen. But I probably only took out a quarter of their forces, the rest will have trouble getting through the rubble and turning the power back on though, so that should give us more time." Hawkeye gave her a blank look that was hard to see in the darkness, but shrugged and moved on.

"And your friend? The one that punched me in the head? That wasn't human."

"The Winter Soldier is mostly human, but he has been enhanced."

"Enhanced? What, like a super soldier or something?"

Before Natasha could respond, a grenade landed at their feet. Instinctively she kicked it away as Hawkeye jumped forward pushing the two of them through the door. She swore in russian. Hawkeye drew one of his last three arrows from his quiver and aimed it at the door. They heard the explosion and saw smoke trickle out from the cracks around the now warped door. Natasha took a step back and looked behind her. She saw the tell-tale flash of glass in the sunlight from several windows. Crap.

"SNIPERS" She yelled as she tackled Clint to the ground, trying to get him away from the door. As they fell he released his arrow and a cloud of black smoke encompassed them. Natasha coughed for a moment on it before holding her breath and scrambling to her feet. They had to move before the Soldier-

Sounds of shrieking and tearing metal told her that the Soldier had destroyed the door. Hawkeye knocked another arrow before stealthily getting to his feet. He mimed for Natasha to be quiet. She nodded and gestured for him to come towards her. The footsteps were getting louder, the Soldier didn't care about being stealthy this time.

Natasha held her breath as Clint creeped towards her. He was stealthier this time. The sound of a metallic pin scraping against a lock silenced her encouraging thoughts. Hawkeye froze, he heard it too. She started counting down on her fingers. They might be able to use the explosion as cover to get to the gardens. There the trees would help shield them from snipers and they could focus on the larger problem.

 _*one**two***three!_

Hawkeye jumped towards her as she fired a rope around the nearest tree to pull them to safety. The explosion went off in that moment scalding their feet, but giving them enough cover to not get shot.

Once they thumped into the tree trunk there wasn't any respite. The Soldier was on them again, _although blissfully out of grenades_ , Natasha thought as she checked his belt. That was as she severed the rope and pushed Clint to one side with her legs, moving herself out of the way of the soldier's approaching metal fist. Bark flew everywhere.

Clint quickly jumped into the treetops, one of his arrows trained on the enhanced target, though he didn't dare shoot yet. Not with so few arrows, not knowing his opponent's limitations, and Natasha being so close by. The Soldier ignored him and began chasing after Widow.

She was like water, flowing around each of his strikes, looking for an opening. She flipped up the soldier's arm and wrapped her legs around his neck. An electric stinger discharged from her bracer onto the soldier's metal arm, locking the elbow open. While the soldier tried to pry it off, Widow wrapped a garrotte around his neck and jumped to the ground. His neck was jerked backwards as her weight yanked against it, when he stumbled to catch himself the stinger was finally pried off his arm; freeing his movement again, though it looked to Hawkeye like it was barely damaged.

Widow had a death grip on the garotte, but was trying to stay out of Winter's reach at the same time. When she tried to slip through the tree branches he got a hold of her ankle and yanked her down to the ground. Clint winced as her head snapped against the ground. Without giving her time to recover, the Soldier threw her body against the tree.

Hawkeye released his arrow as Natasha's frame cleared the shot. The soldier looked up and moved his metal arm to deflect the arrow. What he wasn't expecting was the liquid that exploded from the arrow, instantly encasing him and hardening.

As soon as the arrow left his bow Hawkeye was on the move. Jumping to the ground, he lifted Natasha over his shoulder and ran towards their escape route. A normal assailant would be trapped indefinitely by the foam-tipped arrow, but he had already seen this man ignore taser-wounds and getting choked by the Black Widow. He wouldn't put escaping this past him.

When they were presumably out of sight, Hawkeye set Widow down against the wall and watched the Soldier struggle with the foam. The wall was at least a ten feet high stack of cinderblocks. He was down to one last arrow and he didn't know where Widow's base was.

The sound of ripping foam urged him to make a move.

"Wake up! Natasha!" He whispered. "Natalia! Widow! Asset! Romanoff! For crying out loud! We need to keep moving!" _Check her breathing idiot, that was a hard hit._ Fingers jumped to her neck to find a pulse and his ear went over her mouth to feel for breath-The Soldier had freed his arm and face-Her pulse was very strong, but her breath was shaky. She may have broken a rib. He tore his sleeve to bandage her head. She definitely had a concussion, he knew that much.

The Soldier grabbed a knife from his belt and began freeing himself at a much faster pace. He only watched Hawkeye out of the corner of his eye, like a bug that you aren't sure whether you need to squash or not. Clint did not want to be squashed. In desperation he lifted Natasha over his shoulder and tried to aim her bracer at the top of the wall. The angle was difficult, for an amature, and when he located the trigger his shot was dead on. Unfortunately, that was when the Soldier tried to slice him across the neck.

Hawkeye ducked beneath the swing as the harpoon locked into place on a tree close to the wall. Widow was pulled up into the tree, trailing blood where the knife had grazed her side.

 _Crap._

Hawkeye tried to keep his distance as the Soldier swung at him with the knife and his fists. Each attack was more narrowly dodged as Hawkeye tried to maneuver to anything he could use as a weapon. He did NOT want to use his last arrow. The Soldier, or _Two In One Meat Tenderizer and Emo Hair_ , knocked him down with a gut punch. Winded, and lying nauseated on the ground, Hawkeye threw a kick between the Soldier's legs. He caught the foot and Hawkeye almost screamed at the force of his grip. Before he could break any joints his face tightened in pain and his metal arm went limp.

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 **SORRY this took so long guys! Life has been super busy and I promise I'm still working on it and haven't abandoned it. For any swearing in the chapters, I try to keep them PG, but you're welcome to insert your own 'gritty realism' if you like. I hope you enjoy this chapter and please comment! I promise, the more comments I get, the more, and more often, I will update.**

 **LOVE YOU ALLL**


	9. Chapter 10- Death's Embrace

_Chapter 10- Death's Embrace_

Natasha's eyes opened as she was jerked into the sky. Reflexively, her arms shielded her face from the onslaught of branches. _I blacked out. Not good. I'm in a tree? There's the wall and- HAWKEYE!_ He was doing his best to dodge the Soldier's attacks, but he was running out of ground and energy. The Soldier was covered in some weird foam, but it didn't stop his attacks in the slightest. She shifted around the branches, trying to get a stable firing position that she could move from quickly, before a thump and a cry sent her into action.

Without a moment's hesitation, Widow spun in the branches so she was hanging by her knees and discharged as many stingers as she could onto the Soldier. _First his neck, then his metal arm, other limbs._.Widow discharged stinger after stinger into his body. While he twitched and thrashed Natasha tracked his movements without any interruption of her barrage.

 _Running low on stingers, I think I have a broken rib, falling could make me blackout again. Keep firing, maybe a few more will-_ Her bracers clicked as they tried to fire stingers from empty chambers. _MOVE NOW!_ Widow didn't wait to see how the Soldier was recovering, she straightened her legs, grabbed the branch beneath her, and swung to the ground. She ground her teeth to keep from crying out in pain but didn't fall.

From where she stood, the Soldier was eight feet away, and Hawkeye was double that; panting on his hands and Soldier's muscles were tight and straining but stingers were popping off left and right as they ran out of power. Panting, he stood. He pushed against the wall with his flesh arm for support as more stingers popped off. Widow pulled out her gun and stared him down. His metal arm wasn't moving, but he was far from incapacitated.

 _His face...They wiped him again..._

 _He doesn't know who you are anymore! You can't afford to hesitate! Shoot him!_

 _...But...he's so confused and in pain..._

 _Since when has that mattered, WIDOW!_

 _Since..._

 _He will kill you, because all he has is his programming. You child. You cannot save him. You do not save people, you KILL them. You are an assassin, not a hero-_

A gunshot cut through her inner turmoil. The Winter Soldier was bleeding from his thigh where the slug hit. Natasha hit the deck as another round whizzed through the air. She didn't see Hawkeye, but she shouted to him.

"Snipers! Get down!"

The Soldier fell to the ground and army crawled to the tree Natasha was using for cover. She whipped her pistol to his face. "Don't come any closer Soldatz," The ice in her eyes had returned. "Or this will be your last mission."

She didn't realize as he raised his hands that he had regained control of his metal arm. It caught her off-guard when he jumped at her. His metal arm deflected the few rounds she was able to expel before he pushed the gun out of her of her fingers snapped from the force of his push. Without thinking she moved to her default distraction; and pulled his head into a deep kiss.

At first he was confused and punched her in the side with his flesh arm. She blocked as much of it as she could with her hip and deepened the kiss in desperation. _He doesn't have to remember me, or how he protected me, he just has to be distracted long enough for me to-_ he deepened the kiss and put his arms around her. From her bracer she silently extended a poisoned was running out of air and time-Hydra would send reinforcements any minute-so she plunged the needle into his neck as far as it would go. Immediately he stopped moving before trying to shove her away in shock. Instead of moving backwards, Widow swung around to his back and injected him with another poisoned needle from the other bracer. As his thrashing grew weaker she kept both needles embedded in neck to keep the poison flowing.

When he stilled, she finally retracted the needles. As soon as they were gone she could see his body trying to repair itself. Hydra would no doubt get him to a doctor before he was permanently damaged but he would be out of commission for months at least. Bending over him, she retrieved her gun and holstered it with finality. Cradling her broken fingers in one hand, she shot her cable over the wall and flipped over it.

She landed with a groan on the other side of the wall. Definitely a broken rib. She hobbled from tree to tree until she got to the pine where she'd stored an emergency pack. Her grappling hook was pulling it towards her when Hawkeye landed.

"Widow! Are you alright? What was-"

"Here." She tossed him his SHIELD radio. "Call them." She walked past him and sat down under tree. Hawkeye stood there astounded.

"Why aren't you calling them? Hydra will be on our tail before long, and the KGB aren't exactly patient." Her words were punctuated by a groan as she applied disinfectants to her many open wounds.

"What is your deal?! We aren't even gonna talk about that?!"

"Talk about what, Agent Hawkeye?" The ice in her voice was undermined by her slumped posture and weak grimace. He shook his head. This woman was the deadliest assassin on the planet, two armies were trying to kill them, and she _still_ was refusing as much help as she could. Her eyes opened as the radio thumped on her lap.

"Call them yourself." He began rummaging through her bag for some food.

"What?"

"Call them yourself," He sat down against the tree opposite her and began munching on his successfully pilfered granola bar. "If your heart is so set on doing everything alone, if you really don't want anyone's help, then you should call them yourself."

"Ah. You want to humiliate me then."

"What? No."

"You were beaten in there, almost completely helpless, and you are frustrated that I rescued you, not the inverse. So you want to watch the Black Widow call for help from her former enemies."

"That's a load of crap!" Despite his injuries he rose to his feet. "You think everyone is always out to get you, but they're not! Maybe Hydra is like that, so's the KGB, but when will you understand that all I want to do is to help you! Believe it or not, not everyone wants to kill you. But I can't help if you're always leaving me in the dark! You had something with the-that-"

"Soldatz?"

"YES! But you need to grow up and accept that you can't do everything yourself! You can't watch your own back!" Gingerly, Natasha rose to her feet. "You would have been dead back there if I hadn't carried you."

"Prove it." She held out the radio. "You say you'll have my back, prove it. Call SHIELD. And do it before anyone catches up to us. You want me to trust you? Promise me that SHIELD won't have me killed." Hawkeye stared back into her glare and grabbed the radio from her hands.

"Morse, do you copy?"

-I copy. What the hell happened down there? Do you have the package?-

"No time. I need reinforcements. We have KGB and Hydra on the scene."

-Both? What did you do now?-

"No time Morse! I need reinforcements and extraction for three _now_!"

-Three? Who else is with you?-

Natasha snatched the radio with surprising quickness. "Agent Morse! We are pinned down by snipers and require immediate evac. Agent Hawkeye has told me how congenial SHIELD is, but we will not live to find out if you do not get your superiors and ACT NOW!" Tossing the radio back to Hawkeye she retrieved clips from her bag and began to reload her weapons.

There was an awkward stretch of silence form the other side of the radio. Hawkeye was about to pick up the walkie and yell at Morse before her voice came through again.

-Yes mam.-

Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief.

"I told you. I just want to help. We're the good guys." He flashed a somewhat bloodied and bruised smile.

Natasha rolled her eyes and shot him an annoyed glance. "That didn't prove anything."

"Man, you're difficult to please!"

To Clint's surprise, Natasha just chuckled. He stood dumbfounded at the alien sound before deciding to use her relief and adrenaline to his advantage.

"Believe me now?" He couldn't help the defensiveness that bled into his voice, and a touch of desperation. "We could make a great team Natasha. If you want it, you won't have to fight solo anymore."

Natasha didn't look at him for a minute, and just when he thought that she wasn't going to respond she spoke almost too quietly for him to hear.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Clint."

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Sorry it's been so long! But I'm picking this story back up! Any guesses as to where it will lead next?


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